Cum Catcher

I did not know it was going to hurt the first time nor the second or third time for that matter. I did not know I was supposed to feel good when it was over either. No one prepared me for either, the beginning, what should occur in the middle and definitely not the end.

What I learned about it, any of it, was from books and first hand experience.

My first hand experience over time showed me it wasn’t about me. In all other aspects of my existence I was being shown (programmed) to accept that “It wasn’t about me.” No matter how expert my techniques—you came to this with your learning and programming too.

A European brotha saw an African brotha’s penis and the envy started, because it was bigger. i.e. bigger house, car, diamond, bank account, friends list, followers, et cetera and so on. In the process of man being his human self; not considering the woman he went about teaching the rest of the world things about sex and women that do not apply to all of us.

Boys taught to believe that a big dick was needed to satisfy a girl. Grab those big breasts and give them a hard squeeze. Boys were also taught that the clitoris is her “spot”. Touch it and she gets wet immediately. Stick your finger inside, stick more fingers inside her—she likes that. He was taught that she loved hard thrust into her vagina. Get as far up in there as possible, yes. Add the girls that told him he has good sex and you have the Ego.  

Is the head of your dick not the most sensitive part entering the vagina? There is a reason for that.

While a boy is squeezing my breast hard and digging for gold in my vagina trying to reach my Uterus he is bypassing my G-spot. The G is for Grafenberg. It is a small thing easy to miss really because it is only a couple of inches inside me. It is the spot that makes the orgasm flow through my entire body like a warm wave of water. Slowly from the top of my scalp down around my forehead, eyes, temples, sinuses, ears, cheeks, neck, shoulders, arms, wrist, palms, fingers, down my chest and back to my stomach and hips through the center of my being, down my thighs, my knees and calves, through my ankles around my heels, circling the tops of my feet slowly moving though all of my toes at the same time removing all stress, leaving me refreshed.

It is the orgasm I never get to experience because the boy has been programmed to believe some shit that ain’t true.

My Girl said to me, “first he takes care of me, then…” I have found often the “takes care of me part is rushed so that orgasm isn’t all that it could be, on my end I’m forcing because I feel him rushing. I feel him rushing to get me off so he can shove his dick in and out any way he wants to for as long or as short as he wants doing his business. Most often though the boy does not bother with “taking care of me first” leaving me with the mental fuck of remaining active and seemingly attentive, somewhat vocal the entire time waiting, wanting, privately begging for this violation of my body and my spirit to end.

I cannot talk to the boy about the sex he’s got us missing out on because of the “big dick, let me shove it in her vagina and make sure it reaches her stomach or put my finger in her and move it around or try to insert my hand—her clitoris is her Spot myths. Add the ego and leave me to continue to experience the boy rolling over and falling asleep while I suppress the feelings of arousal and cum catcher. 

Laying there in the dark, able to hear his loud breathing, I think about all the little girls in other parts of the world experiencing the horror of having their clitoris vulva cut out in some sick ritual because someone somewhere along the way told the boys it was the spot; not possessing it would keep them from cheating because they lack desire. The lack of desire comes from the mutilation itself. The real “Spot” is a couple inches inside her in a hollow.

I lay there and realize that boys should realize porn is the movies and like many movies, a lot of things are hype. A boy being taught that licking the vulva is the only way a girl can cum and then only having intercourse with her night after night after night. I wonder how many beds in America this happens in as I tell myself I will try to talk to him about this matter tomorrow…

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Wonderful happenings

I BELIEVE something wonderful is about to happen!

Safari for the Soul

Jan Boal

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Listen more

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Believe

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Gentle

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Oscar McClure, Doonie

Friends offering benefits
Oscar McClure

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Today is the day

The fall

Have you every fallen, and the impact not hurt?

Nope; me either.

Some falls hurt less than others.

Sometimes we can break the fall,

Sometimes we brace ourselves for the fall.

Sometimes we can roll on the impact…it still hurts.

Some falls will have you laying in the rocks unable to move for a moment easing self up, shaking inside.

Other falls allow us to jump up survey the damage, brush self off and keep moving, yes.

Feeling the pain, seeing the scars, watching the blood drip; the soreness, the hurt the morning after.

Why the fuck would you fall in love when you can walk into it?

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A Lesson

Last week I logged in to Facebook to discover that an old friend’s brother passed to the other side.

I thought about my three siblings.  A part of me would pass with them. A lot of me would hurt, a part of me would rejoice, a lot of me would me angry, a part of me would not care, and a part of me would feel nothing.

Proud of each of them;  disenchanted with each of them, and missing two of them but no longer close to any of them.

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Good Friday in Manhattan

A homeless man laid on the ground against a gray concrete building in the City. It was 37 degrees this morning. He was sleeping, suddenly his body jerked hard wakening him violently. He sat up and started yelling, “Get away from me.” “Get away from me.” As the passersby moved to the far end of the sidewalk, he motioned wildly with his arms and hands, still yelling, “Get away from me!”

After a few moments he reached behind the marble pillar he was using to shield his face from the street and pulled out of fifth of SMIRNOFF vodka. It was a quarter full. He took a swig then slowly screwed the top back on it, gently put it back in it’s hiding place. When his hands could be seen again he removed a Newport 100, and lit it with a black bic lighter. He sat in silence taking an occasional drag from the cigarette. Again, he started jerking his arms and waving his hands for the imaginary person to leave his space. He was speaking in a volume that could not be heard beyond where he was sitting on the ground against the gray concrete and marble building. Just as suddenly as he started jerking his arms and waving his hands he stopped. He finished his Newport and flicked it towards the street.

At least one hundred people had passed by him on the sidewalk by now. Many not looking in his direction. A young blonde haired male with black earphones looked at him with disgust as he passed, slowing his stride as he got closer to him to get a better look.

A man in a navy blue wool hat and matching parka strolled down the street. He was carrying a metallic blue stainless steel water bottle in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other slowed his walk as he approached the homeless man. He stopped and smiled at him, handed him the brown paper bag, bid him a good day and walked on. The homeless man looked in the bag then placed it on the outside of the marble pillar. He reached behind the pillar to retrieve the SMIRNOFF bottle, took another swig and put it back, again with a Newport in his hand. He sat and smoked in silence.

People walked up and down the block some rushing to work, a few carrying gym bags, others walked holding a dog leash, their dog at their side. A woman in a mink, a man in a navy pea coat using a blind person’s cane as his guide.

A small girl wearing a pink coat, white scarf, colorful beads adorning her braids looked into her father’s eyes as they got closer to the man, neither said a word. He handed her something. When they got to the man sitting on the cold ground against the building they stopped. She handed him money that was carefully folded in her hand, tears in her eyes she said, “I love you.” The homeless man said nothing as he accepted the money she held out to him. The father fought back his tears, they walked on in silence. The little girl looked up at her father and smiled. He took her hand and they walked on down the street.

The homeless man turned to watch them until he could not see them any longer. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a stack of folded bills. He unfolded his money exposing 20’s, 10’s, 5’s and one dollar bills. He unfolded the money the girl with the braids handed him. He separated the five dollar bill from the single one, put them in their proper place in his stack and put the money back in his pocket.

Just then another man walked up and handed the homeless man a large iced coffee from Starbuck’s and a straw and walked on without a word. The homeless man discarded the white paper from the straw beside him on the ground took a big sip then placed the iced coffee on the window ledge above his head.

As I sat in the warmth of the car ten feet from the homeless man I looked closer at his clothing. He was wearing brown and white suede sneakers not worn or dirty other than the heel of the shoe where it rested against the sidewalk. He had on black socks, a pair of black jeans, not worn or dirty other than the dirt acquired from laying on the ground. He had on a black sweatshirt that appeared to be dirty from laying on the ground as well. His hands were ashy from the cold dry air of the morning.

I looked at the clock on the dash of the car as I turned the key in the ignition to warm the car again. It was 8:50 a.m. I had been sitting there since 7:08 a.m. waiting for my friend to return from her early appointment. The homeless man laid down, crossed his his left leg over his right leg. He rested his left arm over his forehead, and his right arm across his stomach. Five feet away from the homeless man, a man stopped with his dog so he could pee and take a crap on the sidewalk. The homeless man never moved.

The street of passersby began to get quiet as it was now nine a.m. Those that did pass him speeded up their pace as they got closer. A jogger in black running shoes with a white and neon green top flew by the homeless man. He turned on his side shielding his face from the sun and the passersby. He began to tap his foot as if he could hear music.

I saw my girl friend come around the corner. Time to put my paper away and get back in the passenger seat.

Dentist visit

After my dentist looked at my x-rays he began to tell me what his plan of action is to fix the problem. I said, “I appreciate all that you are going to do; however, do not put anything in my mouth that is going to affect my oral skills.”

Remaining quiet does not

mean I have nothing to say.

It means I do not feel you are ready to feel my thoughts.

I am selfish, yes.

End of a relationship

I would rather die

So I die

Die to Live

Appeared that I love You more than I love myself; just a fraction.

Tolerance

Patience

Faith—Then I saw Satan’s son.

Take your rightful place in the Universe.

Exhaling long/hard.

Heart pounds though my chest.

Breathe.